


Again, Again, Again

by goldengoddess



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: ???? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/F, Fluff and Angst, anyways its gay, canon deaths r included, i didnt want to tag this as character death bc its a fucken reincarnation au but Just So You Know, kissing and stuff, strange memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 20:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldengoddess/pseuds/goldengoddess
Summary: The first time Eva saw the boss she fainted.Eva falls in love with the Boss, again.





	Again, Again, Again

**Author's Note:**

> i promise i have a fun not angsty au for the boss and eva up my sleeves, but this had to get finished first.

The first time Eva saw the boss she fainted. Maybe it was being electrocuted that did it, maybe it was seeing Sokolov vomit blood. But, no, Eva swore it was the woman, the American woman, who did it. Eva was in handcuffs, running through the beginnings of her plan, working out the details in her mind before her body seized up and she fell onto the stone floor, her wrists burning against the sparking metal, eyes unable to focus on any one thing. The same went for Sokolov, who screamed like he was being stabbed and passed out without hesitation. She, on the other hand, bit through it, and was lifted up by unseen hands that put her glasses back over her eyes. Shaking, she looked up through the lenses and felt the last bit of static course down her back. That blonde lady, the one with the headband, she made Eva felt dizzy. She closed her eyes and went limp.

 

…

 

Examination, yelling, bright lights, torture- Eva had seen it all before. Tied up to a chair, she counted to one hundred in English, then Russian, then Mandarin, tuning out the buckets of ice water and gun to her head. She couldn’t even put together what they were asking, having gone three days without sleep. Her vision was foggy and blurred.

“Are you even listening?” one of the lackeys screamed in her ear.

“Huh?” She murmured.

The man’s face turned red as he spat, “I could kill you right now, you fucking-” 

“Boss!” the two men not foaming at the mouth spun so fast to salute to the doorway that their heels clicked in synchronicity. 

“Boss?” Eva muttered, trying to remember what title was whose through the pain in her head.

“Step aside, lieutenant.” The man who had been interrogating her moved instantly and suddenly Eva’s head hurt. 

“Yessir.” he said.

The voice was attached to the American defector. She stood tall, taller than any of the men in the room, her arms crossed and fine lines in her face dangerous. Eva felt herself blacking out all of the world except the person before her with sharp blue eyes. It was like she had seen them before, somewhere, sometime. 

“May I talk with the prisoner?”

“Yessir.”

She gave a shallow smile. “Good, now then, what can you tell me of your mission?”

Eva blinked away the blurriness, “Have we met before?”

The Boss gave her a moment of consideration before saying, “I don’t believe so.” Her solid frown did not break for a single second, the expression nagging her heart as familiar. It was too strong, this idea at the back of her head, not a normal  déjà vu, but something deeper. Maybe it was wishful thinking in this hellhole, but as the Boss sat beside her, back straight as a pin, Eva felt like they had sat together somewhere else before.

 

…

 

The Boss had taken too many hits for Eva to feel comfortable, the woman had to have known something about her. She likely didn’t feel the same pull that Eva felt for her, a magnetism that was two parts hopefulness and one part nostalgia. That’s what she had named the feeling, nostalgia. The affection- dare she say it- for the woman was sentimental in the way Eva had not expected. It wasn’t a petty attraction, it was images of tall sunflowers and a wide blue sky, the smell of fresh bread and clean linen. Eva almost laughed when the Boss had touched her shoulder- the memory of lace gloves she had never worn bubbling up with the taste of a champagne she had never tasted. It was so unusual.

Eva had never been the kind to zone out, to let seconds go by without her exact calculation of the meaning of each. In fact, as a child, she had been boasted of having a near perfect memory, one her schooling had appreciated highly coupled with her vivacity and intense wits. But here, in the metal compound of Groznyj Grad, she felt the slightest twinge of fear that she could be losing her grip. Why else would the Boss- or anyone, for that matter- take pity on her? But even then, Eva was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that the most talented military mind in the world took  _ pity  _ on her. Maybe it wasn’t pity.

The Boss was looking at her, she knew. She was being talked down to by Volgin, and she had eyes on her. The hairs on the back of her neck rose not from the threats of death or worse, but the familiarity that burned all over. Eva was looking over the colonel’s shoulder, out at the swamp, the smell of gunpowder and lavender strong, but without a source. It was the damned apparitions again.

“I think that’s enough, colonel.” The Boss said, stepping between them. He laughed and replied in his hyper masculine voice, but the Boss’s glare and powerful stance made him roll his eyes and back off, not that Eva was listening in the first place. A split second of developed shoulder muscles and the smell of sandalwood, and the Boss was facing Eva again, the lot they stood in empty save for the harsh wind.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Eva said, speaking in her more feminine, Tatyana voice.

The Boss gave her a hard look, square in the eyes, then turned her face to the wind. Her military jumpsuit pressed against her body, giving in to the powerful gusts. No wonder everyone was afraid of her here- she was commanding and terrifying all while being beautiful. Her sharp cheekbones and deep set eyes were striking in the same way she spoke- to the point, unquestionable, and worn. “Sir.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Her eyes flickered over to her. “Be careful.”

“Yessir.”

 

…

 

It was because there was nothing else to do- no one else to scam- no other lists to track in her mind- Eva rationalized. She was in the Boss’s room, for some reason she couldn’t remember, damn the recent fogginess, and was listening to a radio show in a language she didn’t know, the Boss writing at her desk. Maybe she had been forced in here by one of the colonel’s lackeys, or, more likely, the Boss had invited her in to avoid them. She tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair and listened to the musical interlude. 

“Tatyana.”

“Sir?”

The Boss was still looking at her papers, the yellow lamp burning against the darkness that oozed from the corners of the room. “Would you open a window, please.”

“Yes, of course, sir.” She stood up, eager for even the smallest thing to do, and broke the stale air with a gulp of freshness. It was pitch black outside, night having long come, and the only shimmers of light were the guards and street lamps, the hills and trees black under the sky. She felt a hand touch her forearm and was suddenly struck by the sound of birds in the morning and the warmth of the sun, despite the inky night outside. She swallowed and faced the Boss. “I know you, don’t I?” Eva said, completely forgoing her carefully crafted identity for the momentary press of a hand against her.

The Boss looked gravely up at her, “The Philosopher's school-”

“No, something farther back. We’ve done this before- we’ve done  _ this  _ before. I asked you once, but I know we’ve met before.” She sighed, leaning against the windowpane, hair flitting in the breeze. “Wait- the school?”

She frowned, “Yes, is that not where you remember me from?”

Eva bit her lip, “I- yes- I remember. You- maybe that’s it then.” The Boss stood up from her chair and leaned against the wall next to Eva, her arm pressing against hers. She could smell the sea, and fried food- Eva could have sworn she heard the crunching of sand underneath feet. “But- I know you. I have to.”

The Boss’s gaze was wary and confused. “I don’t know if I follow.”

“You, you and I were at the beach once, and on the road, I-” Eva’s hand had moved before she even realized what she was doing- pulling hair behind the Boss’s ear and brushing her cheeks with her hands, bringing them closer together. “You had brown eyes and black hair then, I’m sure of it.”

“Why were we at the beach?” The Boss whispered, not pulling away from Eva.

“There was a boy, he was eight or nine, maybe ten,” she said without thinking, like the words were coming from her mouth by way of a ventriloquist. “He was sick, you were wearing-” she trailed off.

“Wearing what?”

“Lace gloves, you smelled of lavender.”

Eva’s hands fell to the windowpane; she knew the Boss was just playing along. For whatever reason, she had taken a liking to her, which only fueled Eva’s certainty that they had met. “What else do you remember?” the Boss said, adjusting her position to watch Eva’s hard stare out the window. 

“It’s- not important.”

“Tell me.” She whispered into her ear, the hairs on the back of Eva’s neck prickling. 

She couldn’t move, what with the Boss’s hand touching the small of her back, her body pressed against the window and wall. “You prayed over his body.”

“I’m not religious.”

She looked up at the Boss, an inch apart from her face. “He had blonde hair.”

The Boss shifted, “What else?”

“He looked angry, and sad. I don’t remember-” she said, biting down on her lip. “It was past the dunes, where the grass grows, where there were flowers.”

Maybe she had said too much, she thought as the Boss stepped away, back over her desk, as if to loom over anything- anything at all. Her shadow fell off of the table, down the floor, and scattered itself over the twin chairs. Was she angry now? Everything she had learned about body language had gone out the door as she grew closer to the Boss. They were both masters of manipulation, no movement was sure not to be a red herring. The Boss’s silhouette as she moved her head, just slightly, made Eva’s heart jump. “You said we had done this before.”

“Yes.” Eva said, “Sir.” she added. The Boss gave a strange chuckle and picked up a pen from the desk, flipping it over her fingers. 

“How many times?”

“Sorry?”

“How many times?” She said, advancing. “We’ve done this before, but how many times?”

Eva genuinely tried to imagine a number, countless memories and feelings all gone as she tried to track them, all a fleeting thought as the Boss stood before her. She willed herself to look away, break the eye contact, but a hand on her cheek brought her eyes right back to the Boss. “I don’t know, I don’t know if there is a number.” 

“Then, tell me,” the Boss said, voice nothing above a whisper, a breath, “do you remember how we kissed?”

She knew her face was red. Despite all the men and women she had seen in her life, she was too small in these shoes, too small in all of her roles, in this life and in all the others. But there was one constant in the cycle, no matter how convoluted her life was. “Remind me.” she said, with a sly smile, one she had given countless times before. 

The Boss did not hesitate to press her lips against Eva, pushing her up against the window, Eva’s left shoulder blade exposed to the open pane. She made a noise of surprise as the Boss persisted, soft lips messy and their breath hot. Eva tilted her head, and, although her eyes were closed, she could see every time the Boss had kissed her, had unclipped her bra, had run her hand through Eva’s hair and pulled. Were the hands on her now covered in lace? Were her fingernails painted? Was there ruby red lipstick smeared over her lips? Eva let her uniform be unbuttoned, the Boss’s hands delicate over her skin, kissing across her collarbones and the top of her chest. Eva looked down, vision hazy, her hands full of brown- no black- no blonde hair. “I think-” Eva mumbled, her voice heavy, “I remember now.”

 

…

 

Eva’s eyes stinged. Her jaw and hurt for a week now from grinding, all due to anxiety. In the depth of the mission she was cool, calm, but in the relative safety of the Boss’s presence she found herself slipping away, far from the facade she practiced.

“You could- you could fake your death!” Eva said, voice raised as high as safe, anger building up. Whereas she had once traced her fingers through the Boss’s hair, she was pulling out her own. The American, the defector, the war hero, the war criminal, whatever anyone wanted to call her- anything but love, or dear, or the pet names they had shared for such a short period of time. She couldn’t stand it. “You could fake your death,” Eva pleaded, defeated. 

She tried to touch Eva’s shoulders, only to have her shake them off, facing into the cold gray night. “They would know. I would have betrayed them any-”

“It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter,” Eva whispered, breath turning into fog. “It doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

“Tatyana-”

“That’s not my name.”

The Boss sighed, “Of course it matters to me. God damn, of course it matters.” she held onto Eva, turning her around to face her, “Listen, it matters. It’s my life, but it has to be this way. We’ve- we’ve done this before, right?” Eva laughed grimly. The Boss was trying to convince herself. She kissed her, “It’s not forever.”

Snow started falling from the clouds, kicking up the night into a whirlwind. Eva’s coat was too large for her, the Boss’s black, like she was prepared for a funeral. She embraced her, sharing her warmth for the last time, arms and hearts tight and weary. “It still hurts.” They broke apart, Eva’s eyes bloodshot and the Boss’s threatening tears. 

“I love you.” the Boss said, “I love you.”

Eva’s head fell back, watching the flurry grow. She dragged her bare red hands over her face and then looked back down. With the fullest sincerity she said, “I love you, Joy. You know I love you.”  _ Joy _ , she finally used her name. “I’m gonna kiss you so hard the next time I see you. Once I realize it's you” she said, with a little laugh, picking the Boss’s hands up.

“Promise?”

“God, I swear on my life.” her smile broken by a small sob. 

 

…

 

Eva wanted to kill Snake right there and then. She could’ve let the plane crash into the lake, she could’ve knocked him out while Ocelot was dueling him. She could’ve shot him where he stood, but she didn’t. 

 

....

 

The boy was dead when they got there. Joy’s lace gloves were soaked in blood and the ground next to his body was littered in bullets she had fished out. Eva stood next to them, at a respectful distance, parsol gripped in her hands like a gun she was counting on to save her life. Joy’s hair was pinned up, but not for much longer; her frown was now covered in loose hairs and a tiny smatter of blood. 

“He’s gone.” Eva said, quietly. Joy didn’t respond. She kept at it, the poor child’s chest broken into too many parts, his blue eyes still open, head tilted at such an angle he could have been staring at Eva square in the face. It was too uncanny, his long blonde hair matted with dirt and blood and sweat, the anger and frustration on his face still visible, despite all emotion having left him hours ago. No one on the beach had heard a gunshot, let alone twelve. No one knew who he was, just a child, dead, in a respectable lunching area. All they knew was he was alone now, save for the two women who found his body. 

With a heaving sigh, Joy sat back on her heels, wiping sweat from her forehead, but managing to smear blood. She tore off her gloves and threw them into the dirt road.

“To hell! Goddamn it to hell!” Eva bit the words out that her partner couldn’t. 

Joy’s knuckles were white, clenching at her skirt fabric, head hung low. She knelt down beside her, unable to look away from the nameless child. The washing of waves past the dunes, past the breeze through the eucalyptus and ice plants covered Joy as she spoke in a low, private voice, “ _ O God of spirits and of all flesh _ -” Eva held her hands together and bowed her head, eyes still gazing at the round cheeks and youthful chin.

 

…

 

In the end she had left a legacy, for better or worse. Maybe in previous incarnations, she had been gentle and composed, had an ounce of love for a world that had did everything it could have done to strip her of her dignity. In the split second before it happened, she took a deep breath, not awaiting it- the end, death, rebirth- but assessing it. Then there came a loud crash, bang, red sparks, and nothing at all.

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

Hills upon hills of lush green and bone white towering windmills flashed past the window as the train neared four hundred kilometers per hour. She had taken a shower, chose her favorite shirt and pants, and had tied her hair up like she used to. There was no reason for it, looking nice, not really, there wasn’t even a tug in her heart as she prepared for her trip that she should look presentable. But who needed a warning, anyways? Eva was dangerous and fun and did things for herself, she rationed. But now that she had made eye contact with the handsome woman sitting across from her several times, she was glad she had subconsciously prepared. 

The woman was in a yellow dress, holding a bouquet of sunflowers, her hair pulled back with a black headband. 

“Who are they for?” Eva said.

The woman looked a little shocked that she was being talked to, “Oh, just to brighten the house.”

She smiled, “But what house would need brightening with you in it?”

The lady laughed and looked down into the bouquet. “Are you bright, too, for flirting with random women on the train?” she said, her blue eyes twinkling as they flicked up, making something click in Eva’s heart. There was some air about here, how her eyes crinkled, how her muscular shoulders relaxed, the spot under her right eye, something infatuating.

“I hope so.” she said with a sure grin. 

“What’s your name, stranger?” the woman asked.

“It’s Eva,” she held out her hand.

“Joy- it’s nice to meet you, Eva,” she said, shaking her hand, “Although, I can’t help feeling like we’ve met before.”

Eva frowned, feeling just the same way. “It’s good to meet you too, Joy.” She shook her head, “And it’s funny, I had the same thought.”

“Maybe our souls are intertwined.” Joy said with an incredulous flash of the eyebrows, returning her hand to hold onto the flowers.

“Maybe so.” Eva said, amused. “Do you believe in that kind of stuff?” 

Joy shrugged, looking out the window, the hills already turning into red rock and mesa, “I’ve seen weirder things.”

 

 


End file.
